Car-Show Judging And Other Mysteries Of The Universe

There are plenty of mysteries within hot rodding, but none so vast and bewildering as car-show judging. In roadsterlandia, there is no event so steeped in tradition as the Grand National Roadster Show (GNRS), where the coveted “America’s Most Beautiful Roadster” (AMBR) crown is the Holy Grail. And just as the Grail is mysterious, so, too, is the process by which the AMBR is judged. For 2013, HOT ROD was allowed into the inner sanctum of the show’s secret judging to witness how the honor is conferred, pledging not to reveal the parties involved and what methods of provocation were involved.

GNRS history dates back to 1949 in Oakland, California’s Exposition Building, where Al and Mary Slonaker assembled an international car show. Though primarily made up of foreign makes, sharing the floor were a dozen or so hot rods. By the end of the show, it was apparent that spectator interest mostly centered on the rods. Score one for the home team. Later that year, the newly christened National Roadster Show was being touted in the Oct. 1949 HOT ROD, and a two-page, editorial-looking advertisement for the show ran in the Jan. 1950 issue. The show was a success, according to HOT ROD’s Mar. 1950 coverage and the almost 30,000 spectators who paid to see it. Bill Niekamp’s track-nose 1929 Ford won the first AMBR title and was featured in the same issue.

Through the years as entries grew, new award classifications were created, dividing the field into groups of similar types of cars and making the judging more intricate. In 1958, Richard Peters’ Ala Kart hit the floor and won the AMBR title for the first of two consecutive times; its level of detail, design, and finish changed the game, pushing out homebuilt, street-driven roadsters and creating more points-driven, professionally built contenders. The trend continued in the 1960s, with roadsters becoming more complex and imaginative. Fiberglass and aluminum construction allowed builders to create ever more exotic bodies that at times bordered on excessive, but creativity has no bounds, and the spectators loved it. Points were accumulated in five categories: show appeal (craftsmanship and how the car was displayed), safety (roadworthiness), condition (overall paint, engine compartment, interior, and chassis), workmanship (fit and finish), and innovation (design, ideas, and component selection).

By 1972, Al Slonaker’s failing health caused him to sell the show to Harold “Baggy” Bagdasarian, a fellow car-show promoter from nearby Sacramento. He had a partnership with customizer Darryl Starbird—and later with Don Tognotti, who bought out Starbird’s share—and the AMBR winner was determined by them and them alone. They would huddle with confidants throughout the 10 days of the show, but ultimately they made the pick. How the choice was made has always been somewhat of a mystery, though looking through the past AMBR list, it’s hard to fault the winners. But, as the show progressed, the judging became far more like a Detroit-type show, so a little background on that is necessary.

The so-called Detroit style of judging dates back to 1961, when famed car-show promoter Bob Larivee developed the standards for his new International Championship Auto Shows circuit. In 1963, he used them for his International Show Car Association, and they were adopted the same year by the Detroit Autorama show (which dates back to 1953 and which Larivee’s companies have operated for decades). Larivee devised a method of judging that used a point system based on three criteria, starting with the most important: design, engineering, then fit and finish. Over the years, the criteria have flipped, with fit and finish being the main focus of show judging. That’s understandable considering that how a car or component is finished and assembled is the easiest measure to quantify. Design, on the other hand, isn’t. Can you define in words why a 1965 Mustang is considered one of the best-designed cars of the era while a 1965 Fairlane sedan isn’t? Same builder, same year, but a completely different design expression.

So the Detroit awards came to honor cars with the highest level of fit and finish for individual components combined with how expertly they are assembled. This method of judging gained momentum as Larivee expanded his car show empire into other markets, making it the easiest and best method in the country, and no alternative guidelines were ever deemed necessary. Though different in nature, the Detroit Autorama and GNRS continue to be the most significant shows in the country today.

7/1307] Mumford makes a point of discussing the Ardun conversion with the judges, as even flathead experts dispute the existence of V8-60 Ardun heads. Supposedly, there were 8–10 sets made, with Mumford owning two of them. Ford made the 136ci V8-60s for ’37–’40 models, and the tiny engines were popular in Midget racing in the ’40s and early ’50s.

In the same time frame, the GNRS—not being part of Larivee’s domain—always had its own method for picking winners. It had the reputation of dealing more in the sum total of the components, with an emphasis on how pleasingly they jelled as a car—what some would say is more of an old school or traditional approach. Judging gave ample consideration to the ever-narrowing fit and finish category, but the contender still had to have “the look.”

In the 1970s, as disco waned, Detroit-type judging gained at the GNRS. First came highly modified roadsters, then roadster bodies created from scratch, aiming to score extra points in the degree of difficulty category. Interestingly, the first such roadster rendered almost unrecognizable for the sheer amount of modifications came from HOT ROD’s own Tex Smith and his XR-6 AMBR-winning entry in 1963. A project chronicled within HOT ROD, it was based on a 1927 T roadster body, but the Steve Swaja design was barely identifiable as such. The trend of non-OE-appearing bodies has ebbed and flowed throughout the years, hitting its peak over the last 20 years. Bodies were being created with an emphasis on being unpredictable and with less concern for how “beautiful” the car actually was. Or wasn’t. But the award was still for the “most beautiful roadster.” And just like in the Detroit show, you scored extra points for your display—even if the radiant roadster twirling on the display was a polished turd.

Ultimately, if the paint was puckered around chassis bolts from being too fresh during assembly, or you missed wiping a bit of rubbing compound off of the hidden portion of a component seen only by a judge with a pocket mirror and flashlight, it could mean the difference between victory and defeat. Points for perfection trumped stance, and it didn’t matter if body lines were eliminated to the point that the car took on the look of a rolling egg. The beauty of the roadster became secondary—or tertiary.

8/1308] Here’s the view from the judging table of John Gunsaulis’ Model A roadster pickup. Following a consistent theme throughout, with nothing on the car manufactured after WWII, he wanted to create a roadster as if somebody like Edsel Ford had an around-town car created in the late ’30s. Streamline Moderne design elements could be found throughout the build.

As the GNRS approached its 60th year, those in the know didn’t know what to make of the show, or of the AMBR award. Despite having changed ownership a few times and moving from its motherland in NorCal to SoCal in 2004, the show was still deep in hot rod tradition but was becoming less relevant as the years progressed. It was a Superpower show with only Third World results. Many felt the judging focused too much on points and not enough on how the roadster actually looked—that flash and cash trumped panache. A group of individuals got together with current promoter John Buck to express their concerns and offer a solution that could be rolled out in steps from year to year in the hope that it would bring back some significance to the whole proceedings.

The new judging concept would start with a group of 10–12 industry experts ranging from builders to painters and from magazine editors to car designers, and with at least two “Detroit” judges to add their expertise and influence. Originally, the idea was to change the group each year, but after the first run-through in 2011—with the back and forth that took place for the judges to be clear on the criteria and process—it was realized that getting up to speed would be lengthy for each succeeding new group. Instead, the decision was made to cycle in and out one or two judges a year, keeping the core together to streamline the process just a bit.

9/13As the crew with Harold Chapman’s ’33 roadster prepares it for display after the judging, you can see how the cars tend to become exploded to expose the inner workings of the car. Unfortunately, this results in almost impossible speculation on the judges’ part as to what the roadster looks like together as a real car, which triggered completely new judging methods beginning in 2011.

Each car would be driven onto a stage where the judges could take in the whole of the car—how it sits, how it sounds, how the driver fits within the car, how well the tires fit within the fenders, and whether there was crap hanging below the visual scrub line, to name a few areas of focus. Judges could view the car at a distance, then talk to the owner to get some of the backstory and learn about the important aspects of the build. If the roadster could not be driven the few yards required for judging, it was disqualified. This did away with “pushers” (cars that can’t run) and things like chrome-plated brake rotors—which might have gotten you extra points in a regular show, but were deemed non-op by the new rules. Some have suggested taking this a step further and gathering the cars Saturday night for a five-mile hop to the local In-N-Out Burger to prove they can actually be driven. The judges are free to look at details of the car during the show, but the first viewing is meant to judge the cars closed up, on the ground, as a real car is observed—not doors and hoods akimbo, jacked up on a flashing, mirrored display like a flying dragon. That typical way of displaying a show car can hide a multitude of sins and makes it nearly impossible for anyone to assess how the car looks and visually feels.

10/13As displayed, the ’13 AMBR winner features a Steve Davis–fab’d track nose and hood and rare Kinmont disc brakes all around. Rather than displaying over-the-top gimmicks, components, or fabrication, the roadster epitomizes the height of traditional roadster building. Even the way it was displayed was trad. It would appear that this type of approach is being rewarded at the Grand National Roadster Show, based on the last three years of the new judging.

What the judges see and how well they feel the car conveys roadster righteousness determines points. Is the driver sitting up in the air like a cartoon dog in a bubble car? That weighs more negatively than whether a door gap is a millimeter off. Are the wheels centered nicely in the fenders? This weighs more positively than a handmade top that climbs as it transitions forward.

The overall judging is complete by Saturday night, when the knives come out. At a secret location, the judges meet to hammer out who will win, much like the selection of a new pope. However, there’s no pope-piety. Each judge brings the positive and negative aspects of a car forward, one at a time, concluding with a winner. By the time the last judge is done, the field has been stripped down to two or three contenders. Those consensus cars are then discussed in more detail, and that’s when whatever subtlety and tact a judge may possess disappears. Each judge at the table gives his or her vote. More than a simple majority is required before the winner is determined. If two or more cars are too close to call, the judges might go out to the show floor and discuss them further before heading back for a final tally. The winner is not announced until Sunday night after the show closes to the public.

Has it worked? Buck and the judges think so. Public opinion varies, as can be expected, for beauty is perceived so differently from one person to the next. The consensus seems to be that something had to be done, and it looks like this new way to judge is working, and if anything, enthusiasts will give it some time to season before labeling it a winner or failure.

Judging by the many blogs in Weblandia, there have been zero complaints with this year’s winner. That’s pretty impressive, because as the saying goes: For every beauty, there is an eye somewhere to see it. Hot rodders know that saying as, “There’s an ass for every seat.”.

The 2013 America’s Most Beautiful Roadster

The 2013 AMBR is the second winner in a row that had been in the works for a couple of decades, having been started by one person and one shop and eventually being owned and finished by someone else. The roadster started as a Kelly Brown project—as in ’78 Top Fuel Champion Kelly Brown. He took his parts and ideas to tin-bender extraordinaire Steve Davis, who created the distinctive aluminum nose, hood, and bellypan. From there, it went to So-Cal Speed Shop in Pomona, where building slowed down then stopped due to funding. The roadster sat at SoCal for ages.

San Francisco’s John Mumford, a longtime Roy Brizio customer, came to Roy wanting to build a ’27 highboy. Roy knew about the Brown roadster and talked John into taking the plunge. John’s only stipulation was that the roadster be spun by one of two sets of Ardun overhead conversions he owned for the diminutive V8-60. There were only 8–10 sets ever made, and John wanted just the right car for the rare speed parts, which also included a complete set of four Kinmont disc brakes and a Model A quick-change rearend.

The roadster looks so simple, with nothing appearing to have been produced after 1952, which makes it hard to compete against shotgun motors and handmade bodies, but that gets back to the premise for the award. Leonardo da Vinci once said, “Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.”